


That pretentious artist boyfriend

by cian1675



Category: Infinite (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Flawed characters, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Reminiscing, but also present encounter in a cafe, not sure if it counts as angst but it's something, pretentious artists AU, writer and songwriter AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 21:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9143146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cian1675/pseuds/cian1675
Summary: Whenever he hears breakup songs, he’s reminded of pretentious artist boyfriends. You know, the kind who's probably really only dating you so they can wear a sad song about how they’re heartbroken when your relationship ends, except they are the one who asked to break up. You know,that kind.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to Y for giving me feedback even though they're not in this fandom. I feel a bit less worried publishing this after getting your opinion.

_one._

Whenever he hears breakup songs, he’s reminded of pretentious artist boyfriends. You know, the kind who’s more invested in their art than they are in you. The kind who’s sweet at first but then suddenly can’t be bothered one fine day and you never saw it coming, had no clue as to _why_. He never figured out why that happens until he realized it’s because they finally know enough about you to write something out of it – something to further their pretentious tortured soul in their art – but not enough to know you as the real person, no. After all, they’re probably really only dating you so they can wear a sad song about how they’re heartbroken when your relationship ends, except _they_ are the one who asked to break up. You know, _that kind_.

 

 

***

15:24

If this was a page from a story, the man would be seated in a mostly empty café, earphones in while he jots something down on a notebook thoughtfully. As it is, Sunggyu spends five whole minutes scanning through the glass of the crowded café before he spots the man sitting in a cramped corner, earphones in with a leather-bound notebook open and a fountain pen in hand although he doesn’t appear to be writing anything. Sunggyu watches him for a minute more, before he pushes the door open. It’s time.

***

 

 

_two._

He has both met and had a bunch of pretentious artist boyfriends before. It’s hard not to, when he used to attend an arts university. Maybe one day he’ll write a story about all of them – about each of them – but today, he’s just here to write about one.

The boy – let’s just call him a boy, shall we, because we cannot reveal his name, but he needs to be referred to as something, and a man is definitely not it – well, the boy dressed like a typical guy studying in an arts university. Skinny jeans faded with wash, frumpy jacket that could be brand new or thrifted and a random t-shirt underneath which could be either really funny or really ironic if it wasn’t already both. It was the kind of shabby artist chic that everyone seemed to be really into, except he actually looked good in it. Or maybe this is a really biased opinion. Anyway, moving on, the boy wasn’t necessarily physically striking, though he was, of course, beautiful in the way tortured artists are (even pretentious ones). No, captivating was a better word to describe him. It was the kind of captivating that makes you want to find out more about him once you start to get to know him, and before you know it, he’s all you ever want to know about.

The boy has always had that kind of effect on him. Still does.

 

 

***

15:30

The man looks up when Sunggyu’s at his table.

“Oh,” he says. “I didn’t expect you to be on time.”

Sunggyu looks at him. A million thoughts run through his mind, and he could say any of them, but instead he settles for giving him an amused look, casually saying, “Things change. I’m usually punctual nowadays.”

The man laughs. “Yeah, well, guess we’d all grow up, huh.”

Sunggyu takes a seat. The table is too small, and he has to scoot back so his knees don’t bump the man’s. It’ll be awkward, to say the least. When he finally settles down properly, he remembers he had a reply on his tongue – the reason for today’s meeting, really – and mumbles, “Well, maybe some of us didn’t.”

The man looks at him in the eye for a second – a second too long, if you ask Sunggyu – then turns away, humming, “Hmm. I guess not.”

***

 

 

_three._

The boy always has a notebook with him.

“It’s so I can jot down whatever comes to mind,” the boy would say, whenever he had asked. “I don’t want to have a moment of inspiration only to lose it because I didn’t have somewhere to write it down.”

He didn’t mind the notebook, even if he sometimes felt like he had to compete for the boy’s attention with that inanimate object whenever inspiration struck. What he had minded was how the boy was always so protective of it.

“What do you write inside?” he had asked once, curious why the boy never let him flip the pages.

“Nothing, just… scraps of whatever comes to mind. Scattered phrases, little tunes. Small parts that don’t fit together to form a single picture, let alone a whole song.”

“Oh,” he had said, accepting the answer. He accepted the answer, because as a writer, he could understand the need to keep the half-formed sketches of an idea secret until something better – something art – is worked out of it. He accepted the answer because he knew the boy was trying to write a song – maybe more than one – and he would probably show it to him when he’s done. He accepted the answer, because maybe, he had always hoped that the song would be about him.

 

 

***

15:37

Sunggyu is collecting his coffee at the counter when a familiar tune plays over the speakers. He’s barely set his cup down on the table before the man mumbles, “Brings back memories, doesn’t it?”

Sunggyu blows on the rim of his cup to cool the coffee. It’s a love song playing in the café. A break up song. He slowly takes a sip of his too-hot coffee before he replies, “I guess. It’s been a long time though.”

The man nods. He keeps his head down for a long time, and Sunggyu drinks half his coffee in the meantime while the song reaches the bridge, the emotional climax of the song. There’s a short pause in the music – the drop after the emotional buildup, the lead up to the final chorus – and then the man’s suddenly saying, “I’m…sorry.”

Sunggyu blinks in surprise. He hadn’t expected that. He also doesn’t expect the next line.

“I’m sorry I wrote it. Wrote about us. …wrote about you.”

***

 

 

_four._

The first song the boy composed for him was one he sang to him, on their hundredth day.

“Why are we celebrating our hundredth day?” he had asked, and the boy had given him an amused grin.

“Why not?”

He could have pointed out that the boy was not usually the cheesy sort, but when the boy started singing a sappy tune with sappier lyrics about how much he loves him… well, he forgot why he had asked. They made out the rest of the night, guitar half trapped between their bodies, pressing painful bruises into their hips, but neither of them had really cared then. After all, they were in love – so in love – and that was all that mattered in that moment.

If the next morning, the boy yelled at him when he noticed that the strings on his guitar were ruined and there were nicks in the wood of his beloved (secondhand cheap) instrument caused by his belt buckle, well, he hadn’t exactly minded. Maybe back then, he had been naïve enough to think that that was love too.

Maybe he’s still that naïve.

 

 

***

15:41

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Sunggyu sighs.

The man drops his head slightly. “Yeah, I know. I… was stupid.”

Sunggyu squeezes his eyes shut, focuses on just breathing for a while. It’s only when he gets his composure back does he say, “Woohyun, you’re a lot of things, but you aren’t stupid.”

It isn’t really what he means, or what he wanted to say, so Sunggyu tries again.

“What I mean is, you should have realised the implications of writing something and making such an obvious association to me that you might as well have written my name on it.”

Woohyun hunches, his shoulders sloped, and Sunggyu rubs his head in frustration.

“Look, I don’t mean to say you can’t write about me –”

“Yeah, ‘cause that would be hypocritical,” Woohyun mumbles under his breath, and Sunggyu stops. He’s speechless for a moment. He had forgotten that this, this is how Woohyun is, behind the initial carefully constructed meeker impression he likes to give. Sunggyu’s about to point it out – rationally, because he’s mature enough to be rational now – but then the intro to a new song starts on the speakers, and it’s both funny how this is the song that has to come up next on the café’s playlist, but also incredibly ironic.

 _41 days_.

***

 

 

_five._

Remember how this story started? Yeah. Breakup songs. Breakup songs and how they remind him of pretentious artist boyfriends. Except, maybe, he had lied a little. Breakup songs really only remind him of that one pretentious artist boyfriend, the one who wrote a whole bunch of sappy love songs about him while they were dating, and then afterwards, broke up with him and wrote a bunch of pretentious breakup songs about him. It’s really just that one pretentious artist boyfriend.

_The boy._

And since he’s confessing that little lie he told earlier while narrating this story, maybe he should confess the other little thing he lied about. It wasn’t breakup songs that remind him of the boy. It’s really just that one song.

_41 days._

 

 

***

15:43

“This is different,” Sunggyu begins, and Woohyun scoffs a little.

“Right. Of course. Because it’s _you_ who wrote it, instead of me.”

Sunggyu eyes him, reminds himself he’s over this now – spent ages getting over this, getting over himself – then replies as calmly as he can, “Woohyun. Look, I’m not going to dispute the point that it’ll be hypocritical if I judge you for writing about me when I’ve clearly wrote my fair share of songs about you. But first of all, I did that years ago. 41 days was released _four_ years ago.”

Woohyun blinks at him, then averts his eyes. Sunggyu doesn’t know if that’s an acknowledgement, but he continues.

“We broke up ages ago. I don’t care if you use me as inspiration for your work, because like you pointed out, I did the same thing to you. But, there’s a difference between being inspired by me and whatever we had and just outrightly using our past relationship to draw attention to your writing blog.”

“It’s a webpage,” Woohyun mutters, and of course, _that_ would be what he got hung up on.

Sunggyu clenches his fists, then slowly releases his fingers with a long exhale. “Fuck, you know what. Never mind. Why did I bother trying to meet you? I should have just ignored it. Should have ignored all the questions I suddenly got from fans wondering if it’s true that a certain online writer claims to be the person I wrote about in 41 days. Should have ignored the insinuations that the lyrics I wrote was fake because of the things that a certain online writer wrote about how I was a pretentious artist type –”

“Pretentious artist boyfriend,” Woohyun corrects, and Sunggyu narrows his eyes.

“Pretentious artist boyfriend, whatever. Fuck. Did you even think before you published it? Did you think about the implications it would have on me? I wasn’t out in the industry, in case you didn’t realise.”

Now Woohyun looks vaguely guilty – actually no, he just looks guilty, no vagueness about it, and also, hadn’t he technically apologized earlier? – but it doesn’t make Sunggyu feel better. In fact, it makes him feel worse. Seeing Woohyun like this reminds him of his own guilt towards Woohyun, towards their relationship. It had been easy to forget about it until he had to read the piece Woohyun wrote after a hundred over fans tweeted him about it. It had been easy to rationalize that the Sunggyu, the boy Woohyun was writing about, that was a different Sunggyu, a more immature one. Woohyun wasn’t completely wrong in saying that _that_ Sunggyu was more invested in his own heartbreak when they broke up – when he had initiated the breakup with Woohyun – but even then, _that_ Sunggyu had loved Woohyun in some way, even if it was perhaps flawed. The Sunggyu _now_ knows that, knows that he wasn’t so much into Woohyun as he was into the idea of Woohyun, and maybe that was unfair, but at least he had come to terms with it – or thought he had, until he read what Woohyun wrote.

But still, he was just a flawed young boy looking for what he thought was love back then. It doesn’t excuse what he did, but at least he knows he did something wrong.

But Woohyun…does Woohyun even realise what he’s doing right now? Sunggyu looks at the man in front of him, and suddenly feels not just anger, but sadness. It burns, burns to see Woohyun act like this, but at the same time, maybe there’s still a bit of that flawed young boy in him – or maybe Woohyun just brings out that worse side of him – because Sunggyu decides to say:

“You know what? Maybe _you_ are the pretentious artist boyfriend.”

He feels something akin to satisfaction when Woohyun’s head whips up, a mixture of anger, hurt and realisation contorting his usually handsome face. But maybe satisfaction isn’t the right word, because that would imply that Sunggyu enjoys it, and he doesn’t. All he feels now is regret. Regret for everything he had done, regret for everything Woohyun had done, regret that they tried to love and failed, and maybe also, just a little regret that they met each other before they knew how to smoothen out their rough edges, that they met each other before they knew how to love in a way that isn’t entirely selfish.

It could just be that they weren’t right for each other to begin with, but Sunggyu doesn’t like to think that. Maybe they were also just too young back then. Maybe if they had met later in life...

But there’s no point thinking about that now. Nothing can undo the damage they had caused on each other in the past to make up for whatever else they want to build between them now. Woohyun’s not even looking at him anymore, and Sunggyu can’t see his face, can’t tell what he’s thinking, but maybe it makes it easier.

Sunggyu gets up and leaves without a word.

***

 

 

_~~five.~~ _

~~Remember how this story started? Yeah. Breakup songs. Breakup songs and how they remind him of pretentious artist boyfriends. Except, maybe, he had lied a little.~~

~~Or maybe he lied a lot, by omission.~~

 

 

 

_five._

The post you are trying to access has been deleted.

 

 

 

_~~four.~~ _

~~The first song the boy composed for him was one he sang to him, on their hundredth day.~~

~~The first story he wrote about the boy was one he folded into a paper heart and presented to the boy, on their first week anniversary.~~

 

 

 

_four._

The post you are trying to access has been deleted.

 

 

 

_~~three.~~ _

~~The boy always has a notebook with him.~~

~~So did he. Except, he used a fountain pen with it, and the boy just grabbed whatever was cheapest at the stationery store. Who’s the pretentious one now?~~

 

 

 

_three._

The post you are trying to access has been deleted.

 

 

 

_~~two.~~ _

~~He has both met and had a bunch of pretentious artist boyfriends before. It’s hard not to, when he used to attend an arts university.~~

~~It’s hard not to, when he’s one himself.~~

 

 

 

_two._

The post you are trying to access has been deleted.

 

 

 

_~~one.~~ _

~~Whenever he hears breakup songs, he’s reminded of pretentious artist boyfriends. You know, the kind who’s more invested in their art than they are in you. Except this time when the breakup song comes up, he know it’s him.~~

~~He’s the pretentious one.~~

~~He’s the one writing this story, after all, and aren’t stories a kind of art too?~~

 

 

 

_one._

The post you are trying to access has been deleted.

 

 

***

00:41

_zero._

The webpage you are trying to access has been deleted.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry I'm giving you pretentious asshole Woogyu on the first day of 2017, but I hope it's still a good read. I really wanted to publish this once I had finished editing it.
> 
> To be honest, this whole fic was an exercise in pretentiousness, even on my part. It's so seriously self-indulgent and for the sake of itself, but I wanted to try something different. I hope the plot twist towards the end wasn't too confusing. I actually bothered a friend (who's not even into Infinite) to read through this whole thing for me to make sure it wouldn't be, but if it still is, do leave me a comment and let me know where/why. I'm trying this different way of writing a story because I feel like I should do something different to my usual chronological storytelling. Constructive feedback on this would be very much appreciated. Hope you enjoyed the story :)
> 
> Also, if you haven't already, you can listen to 41 days with English translation [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LZwSt0Brne0). It's not necessary to understand the fic, but I fell in love with the song while writing this, and I can't stop playing it.


End file.
